yaralıgöz mountain in kastamonu was lost in the mist. pine trees stretched toward the sky, and the wind whispered old stories through the branches. the dirt road was deserted, footprints had long faded. he remembered the day they walked here together. they had moved in silence, listening only to the wind. “this mountain keeps everything,” one of them had said. and now, the lost words, the unfinished stories, had vanished into the rising mist. the mountain remained. people came and went. love came and went. but yaralıgöz mountain in kastamonu kept all its secrets.